


Meant For Me

by CarpeDiemForLife



Series: The Malice and Caprice of Time [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Feels, Incest, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Incest, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDiemForLife/pseuds/CarpeDiemForLife
Summary: After rejecting Five's confession of love, a sudden change causes Vanya to contemplate her true feelings for him.Set about 2-3 years after a canon divergent 2019, wherein the Apocalypse was averted and the Hargreeves are now living out their lives. Doesn't acknowledge season 2.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: The Malice and Caprice of Time [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893496
Comments: 51
Kudos: 145





	1. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiveyaaas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/gifts).



> This is a series of separate stories all existing in the same universe/timeline. This one follows the events of "From a Heart So Bleeding," so I recommend reading that one first if you haven't!
> 
> The characters are as portrayed in the show, so if you don't like, please don't read.

Five had run away. Again.

This time he left them a letter, so there was that small comfort to cling to. Off to travel the world, he said. See all the sights he’d missed before.

This time his leaving was also undeniably intentional, and that carried with it an extra sting.

Still, at least Vanya knew she didn’t need to worry over him. He was safe, he was alive, he was out there somewhere… just not _here_ , with her.

Every day she expected him to call, and every day he didn’t.

A week went by. Two weeks. A month.

Soon—not soon, not soon at all—two months had come and gone, no word, no sign from Five, the most agonizing months of Vanya’s life. Loneliness was much harder to deal with when the intensity of her emotions wasn’t dulled by medication.

She told herself it was ridiculous to feel lonely. Unlike most of her life, she wasn’t alone anymore. Even with Five gone, she had Allison and Klaus and Luther and Diego and Ben. Her family. It shouldn’t matter that it wasn’t quite her _whole_ family. Surely one person couldn’t make all the difference.

One person could, it turned out. If it was the right person.

After two months in a haze, Vanya decided she’d had enough of her own melancholy, and _more_ than enough of her siblings’ pitying glances. While none of them knew the specifics, Vanya wasn’t a good enough actress to hide her distress after Five’s sudden disappearance, and it had become common knowledge that his departure followed on the heels of a fight between them.

Scowling into the mirror, Vanya slapped herself a few times about the face, just hard enough to bring color to her cheeks. With a concerted effort, she forced her reflection to smile.

The expression felt unfamiliar. She stretched her lips wider, higher, until she was beaming at herself through the glass.

“I look… like a maniac.”

At that she broke, and an honest laugh poured out of her. Sides in stitches, she laughed until tears came streaming out of her eyes.

Then she stopped laughing, and the tears kept coming. Her first cry since Five abandoned her.

 _Again_.

When she finished, she stood up straight and looked into the mirror, feeling quieted, almost weightless. Her face was blotchy, her hair a matted bird’s nest, and dark circles were carved beneath her eyes. In short, she looked like a person again.

This time it took no effort at all to smile.

*

Life returned to normal.

She went book shopping with Allison, visited an old black-and-white movie theater with Diego, did puzzles with Luther, taught Klaus some Cooking 101, and played her violin for Ben. She channeled sound waves to lift a sinking boat out of the river until all its passengers had been rescued. She finished the second draft of her book and sent it back to her editor. She signed autographs for fans of the White Violin, experiencing a mix of guilt and gratitude every time. She laughed and she loved and she learned not to waste her life longing for an absent brother.

If this lesson had to be learned through the art of repression, so be it. Life was livable again, and that’s all she cared about.

Three months after Five’s disappearing act, there came a particularly beautiful cloudless night. Warm, with a slight breeze, the stars beaming down in full measure. Romantic that he was, Luther put together a picnic basket and invited Allison up to the roof, where he’d set out blankets and candles under the moonlit sky.

Klaus was the first to intrude, he and Ben sprawling out beside Luther and ignoring every polite hint. Next was Vanya, laying her own blanket right next to Allison’s. Diego came last, bearing an armful of junk food and settling on Klaus’s other side. Outwardly, the four of them acted as though this were the most natural, casual string of events and _not_ , by any means, a coordinated attack.

Inwardly, Vanya was gleeful. Not only for the fun of it all, but for the stark difference between the _then_ and the _now_ , where now she was not only allowed to partake of sibling shenanigans but felt comfortable enough to do so.

Luther let out a deep sigh, evidently resigned to the new direction his night had taken. Allison’s amused smile probably didn’t hurt. He soon wore a smile to mirror hers, and a chorus of smug grins traveled amongst the other four.

Joyful conversation began, and the Hargreeves siblings relaxed with one another. Chatting, laughing, stretching over each other to reach for snacks. Klaus lit a joint and passed it around. Marijuana, they all knew, was his one exception to a drug-free life, as he was able to use it recreationally without becoming addicted, and it did little to dampen his powers.

Taking a hit, Allison remarked, “I envy you, Klaus.”

“For what, my killer eyeliner? Or my leggy legs?”

“Your _leggy legs_?” Diego mocked.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” said Allison, ignoring the playful tussle that resulted, “but at least you can still do this one thing in moderation without it hurting anyone.”

Vanya inhaled smoke, then leaned as far over Allison as she could, handing the joint to a corporeal Ben, who reached over Klaus and handed it to Diego.

“Unlike my powers,” Allison continued. “Which are reliant on some… innate sense of right and wrong that I _clearly_ wasn’t born with. Without that, any little bit I indulge in could snowball into something much worse. So I can just… never use them.”

Vanya rose up on her elbow and turned to look at her sister, surprised. She knew it had been difficult for Allison to unlearn a lifetime of using her powers, but the way she spoke of it now—like her powers were a drug, a fulfilling part of her life that she’d been forced to quit cold turkey—made Vanya feel guilty for never realizing she felt that way. A somber mood fell over the rooftop.

Ben’s voice cut through the quiet. “You… know that’s not accurate, right?”

“What isn’t?” said Allison, a defensive edge to her voice.

“You absolutely _can_ learn ethics and moral philosophy,” he said. “It’s not just something you have to instinctively know. You can study it. In fact, it _should_ be studied. _I_ did.”

Everyone blinked at him, their jaws in varying stages of dropped. He stared at each of them in turn, seeming bewildered by their response.

Vanya could hear her pulse in her ears. He’d studied moral philosophy as a child? That had never even occurred to her. She’d been so blinded by envy, by her desire to wield powers like the rest of her siblings, that she’d never worried about _how_ those powers should be used.

Her cheeks flushed with shame.

“Didn’t you guys know how much I always hated our missions?” Ben asked.

“Well, sure,” said Klaus, “but wasn’t that because of… you know. The Horror?”

“Yeah, but it was way more than that. I read every book on ethics in Dad’s library. Which admittedly wasn’t much, but it still made me hate everything he made us do.”

“That’s something you can _learn_?” Allison said with wonderment, as though she’d been stuck in stasis since his first remark.

Ben smiled fondly. “Sure. I could teach you, if you want.”

He jumped when every single one of them, not just Allison, responded with a loud affirmative.

“Diego, you were a _police_ cadet!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

“All the more reason,” said Klaus.

Not even looking at him, Diego punched Klaus in the shoulder.

“ _Ow_ ,” Klaus whimpered. “See?”

“Yeah, well…” Diego shrugged, focused solely on Ben. “It’s not like they taught us vigilante ethics. I can be, like, half-student, half-TA.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but Vanya saw the joy in his expression. It was a feeling she understood well—that of being useful, worthwhile, for the first time in a long time.

“Wunderbar!” Klaus clapped his hands. “All of us in school together again, who would’ve thought? It’ll be just like the bad old days.”

“Except this time,” Vanya said, “it’s on _our_ terms.”

Allison turned to her with a smile and grabbed her hand. Vanya smiled back. Taking the joint from Klaus, Ben passed it over to Luther.

“It sucks that Five is gone,” said Diego.

Vanya’s fingers spasmed, clenching around Allison’s. Her sister’s smile faded into worry. She forced herself to breathe and relax.

“He should be here with us.”

“At least we know he’s okay,” said Klaus. “Not like last time. Maybe he’s even looking up at the moon right now, just like we are.”

Luther exhaled and passed the joint to Allison. Coughing around the smoke, he said, “No, the moon set hours ago in Bangkok.”

Silence. Wind brushed through the trees on the street below. The noise of the city surrounded them, motors and pedestrians and a faint electric hum. Somehow, it all seemed as distant to Vanya as the moon itself.

Five heads turned towards Luther in unison.

“Luther,” Klaus said. “How do you know Five is in Bangkok?”

Luther went rigid. “Uh… I don’t.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“I was just… guessing.”

“Luther,” said Allison.

“What?”

Vanya couldn’t see the look shared between them, but a moment later Luther sighed and said, “All right, fine, he sends me weekly updates.”

There was an explosion of noise—thankfully not literal—at this news, as his siblings erupted with disbelieving cries, questions of _How?_ _Where?_ and _Why?_

Only Vanya said nothing. As though she’d dived into the ocean, all her senses were muffled, her perception of the world far away and disconnected from her body.

“Every Sunday there’s a letter on his bed addressed to me, that tells me where he is and that he’s okay. That’s it.”

“Have you written back to him?”

“He’s hand-delivering the letters, he doesn’t exactly put a return address on them.”

“Did anyone else not know Five could teleport that far? Like, whoa. No? Just me? Okay.”

“Then just leave a note on his bed Saturday night, dumbass!”

Waves crashed around her, nearly drowning out the chaos of her siblings’ conversation. Something rumbled in the depths, and she didn’t know whether to flee or welcome it. She settled on a sort of paralyzed terror, sensing rather than seeing its approach.

“Oh. Well. If he _wanted_ us to write, don’t you think he’d just, I don’t know, come home?”

“But why is he writing to _you_?”

“Yeah, what the hell?”

“I don’t know. I guess he just knew that I…”

Her siblings were loud, _so loud_ , and Vanya’s heart was racing, her blood pumping. A roar echoed within that rattled her bones.

She shot to her feet. Fists shaking with unreleased power, she ran from the roof.

Ten minutes and many breathing exercises later, Vanya felt safely under control. Her insides might feel like they’d been ripped to shreds by a tsunami, but this wasn’t reflected in the environment around her. She considered that a success.

There came a knock at her bedroom door, and it was pushed open before Vanya could speak.

Leaning against the frame, Allison said nothing about Vanya’s puffy eyes or the tissues littering her floor. Instead she held up two VHS tapes.

“Which are you feeling?” she said. “‘Singing in the Rain’ or ‘Hello, Dolly’?”

Surprised, Vanya gave a blubbery chuckle. She breathed deep, then smiled.

*

They cuddled together in Allison’s bed for a girls night, facing the television that Allison had set up on the desk against the opposite wall.

Snuggled against her sister’s side, Vanya grinned as Debbie Reynolds jumped out of a cake, moved her toes to Gene Kelly’s rhythms, and snorted as Donald O’Connor pranced about to “make ‘em laugh.” Heart merry, she all but forgot the night’s heartbreak origins.

Until Gene Kelly’s sweet tenor sang, “ _You were meant for me and I was meant for you_ …” She grew more and more tense, the words “ _You’re like a plaintive melody that never lets me free. But I’m content the angels must have sent you. And they meant you just for me…”_ swimming around her like sharks in the water.

In response, Allison’s arm tightened around her shoulders. Vanya trembled. All her feelings from the moments after Luther’s revelation came flooding back, when the dam of her repression had burst and she was forced to consider all the thoughts she’d been keeping at bay.

Eyes trained on the screen, she spoke into the quiet of a dance break.

“What if I… loved him?”

Allison ran her hand up and down Vanya’s arm. “Do you?”

Vanya didn’t answer. Her lips had forgotten the taste of honesty. Now they only remembered the taste of _him_.

“It’s okay if you love him,” Allison said. “And it’s okay if you don’t.”

“ _But I’m content the angels must have sent you_ …”

Vanya flinched and sat up straight, turning away from the television. Taking up the remote, Allison hit pause and the movie froze, hazy lines crackling horizontally across the screen.

“You don’t find the idea of it…” Vanya picked at a loose thread on her pajama top. “I don’t know, repulsive?”

“Who cares what I think? What _anyone_ thinks? Vanya…”

Bed springs creaked as Allison shifted so she could better face her sister.

“I spent a decade hiding my true feelings because I wanted so badly to be accepted by the world,” she said. Vanya was locked in place by the sincerity, the lingering pain in Allison’s eyes. “To seem normal. But you know what? We _aren’t_ normal. None of us. Maybe out there you can’t be honest about who you love, because the world… they can’t take it. But in this house? We’ve got your back. No matter who you choose to be, and no matter who you love.”

For the first time, hope fluttered to life inside of Vanya, like the ticklish brush of butterfly wings. She bit her lip and looked away, embarrassed, unsure how to meet such unconditional acceptance.

“ _Unless_ they’re a psychopath or a serial killer. You’ve already met your quota on that one.”

Vanya gaped at her sister and glared, fighting the amused twitch at her lips. “Ouch, too soon.”

“Three years,” Allison countered.

“Also, Five qualifies as at least one of those, so…”

Allison failed to hide a smirk. “Okay, amendment. You can love someone if they are only _one_ of those things, just not both.”

“Got it. Serial killer okay as long as they also like dogs.”

“Exactly.”

They grinned at each other.

Grabbing the remote, Allison gestured towards the TV. “More singing and tap dancing?”

“Yes please!”

The movie hummed back into motion. They settled back against the headboard and watched in silence through the end of the song.

“Hey, Allison?” Vanya said during the scene change.

“Yeah, sis?”

“Thanks.”

*

Saturday night rolled around and Vanya was besieged by powerful emotions. In the days since Luther’s accidental confession, she’d thought through every angle of the situation and experienced every possible feeling about them. There was one feeling, however, that she kept coming back to, once her initial shock had faded.

The rest of her siblings elected to follow Luther’s lead and leave Five to his own devices, respect his choices, allow him to keep delivering letters in the dead of night without writing any in return.

Vanya’s opinion on the matter could best be summed up as, _Fuck that_.

Tearing a page from one of her notebooks, Vanya sat at her desk and pulled out a pen. She hesitated. Determined, she leaned down and scrawled a few lines, before folding the paper into thirds and sticking it inside an envelope labeled “Five.”

Shortly after midnight, she crept through the silent mansion up to Five’s room, where she deposited the letter on his mattress. She stared at it a moment, felt her heart thrash inside her chest.

Then she went to bed, ready to wake early the next morning, wondering what she would find waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calls itself a Fiveya fic, and Five doesn't even appear in the first chapter smh. I'm so sorry, everyone! Please don't hate me, haha
> 
> Also, fun fact: I wanted to get more into Luther's part here, but it didn't work from Vanya's POV. For anyone curious, that conversation went a little like this...
> 
> Luther: "I don’t know. I guess he just knew that I was the one most likely to invade his privacy after he left."  
> Allison: "Or maybe he knew you'd be the most anxious about him, and he didn't want you to worry."  
> Diego: "Yeah, probably didn't want you to tear the whole planet apart in a panic. It's like having a second mom."  
> Luther: "Oh come on, that's not... I mean--"  
> Klaus: "No, it's definitely that. ...Aw, don't be embarrassed, big guy! We love that about you."
> 
> Basically, Luther is soft and I'll defend that to my dying breath. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.


	2. Pen Pals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially want to dedicate this story to fiveyaaas. She is the true queen of Fiveya, and I am so grateful to know her. Her overwhelming kindness and enthusiasm keep me motivated, and more importantly, she's just a gem to talk to! I feel so lucky to be her friend. Thank you so much for helping me make this chapter better!! <3 (At least I hope it's better! I *think* it is!!)

Gray predawn light dusted the corridors. Vanya traversed the halls between her room and Five’s, the hush of sleep tickling her senses like television static. The floorboards creaked beneath her light footsteps.

She stopped outside his door. Taking a deep breath, she cracked it open.

There on the bed was not one, but _two_ rectangular shapes.

Hurrying across the room, she ignored the postcard addressed to Luther and snatched up the envelope beside it. It was the one she’d left for Five, only he’d flipped it over and written her name on the back. She untucked the lip of the envelope.

Rethinking, she clutched the letter in her hand and rushed from the room, back to her own, where she could read without fear of anyone interrupting. Why she wanted to keep her correspondence with Five a secret, she couldn’t say for sure; she only knew that this was how it needed to be.

The door closed behind her with a click. Safely alone, she flexed her fingers then shook them out, trying to release the tension that had built up in her muscles. Exhaling, she took out the paper and dropped the envelope onto her desk.

At the top sat her own neat handwriting:

**Is this punishment for rejecting you?**

Below it, in writing more like calligraphy than his normal chicken scratch:

_Whatever I have done to make you feel that way, I apologize. Hurting you was not my intention._

That was all. No explanations, no queries. She turned the page over, but the other side was blank. Just this brief answer, as though he couldn’t be bothered to do more, his language stilted and vague. The tone eluded her. Was it genuine? Disinterested? Annoyed? Mollifying?

Or worse, snarky? After all, how could Five, a veritable genius, not know which of his actions she was referring to? There was no way.

His feigned ignorance hurt more than if he’d simply admitted it outright. Desk chair scraping as she pulled it out, Vanya plopped down and grabbed her pen in a huff. 

**Then why leave, and without even saying goodbye?** Her penmanship was still neat, but darker, the tip of her pen digging into the paper. **Why write to Luther and not me?**

She shoved the paper back in its envelope and started towards the door, before she remembered—Luther hadn’t yet retrieved Five’s postcard. She needed to wait until the coast was clear.

This wasn’t an ideal method of communicating, that she would admit, but she didn’t know what else to do. He hadn’t called, nor had he left a phone number for them, so there was no chance of calling _him_. She just had to make do with what she had.

Even if that meant stewing in anger for a week while she awaited his next reply.

For the time being, she forced her mind off the unsatisfactory letter by eating a quick breakfast. She and Diego shared a comfortable silence over doughnuts—his treat for the family, one Sunday a month—and coffee. Though the doughnuts weren’t as good as Griddy’s, it was hard not to think of the person missing.

Only once Allison and Luther entered the kitchen did Vanya shoot up, her legs carrying her as fast as they could up the grand staircase. She didn’t know why; there was no rush. Five wouldn’t be back again for a week. She was only torturing herself.

Still, it felt imperative that she deliver the letter as soon as she could, as though he would feel its presence and come back sooner.

Her nerves drummed for the rest of the day, but she forced herself to go about her normal tasks. She resisted the urge to check back in his room as each hour went by. Somewhere inside, the more sensible part of her—the part not driven by emotion—was shaking its head at her folly. She ignored it with all the maturity of a kid sticking their fingers into their ears and shouting, “Nyeh! Nyeh! Nyeh!”

A century later, dusk fell. Night crept slowly on, and a few hours later, the house was asleep. Giving into temptation, Vanya swallowed down a hot swirl of anxiety and tiptoed back to Five’s room. In her mind she envisioned walking through the door and stopping dead in her tracks, confronted with a silhouette of Five’s back—still short, trim, but broader than her, taller. He would hear her and whirl around, caught in the act, and he would be there, and she would see him, and—

Nothing. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed. His room was quiet and dark, and the envelope still lay on his bed, the side labelled ‘Five’ facing up.

*

After a night of fitful sleep, Vanya couldn’t have been called well-rested, but her anxiety at least had settled. Chastising herself for playing the fool, she walked to Five’s room more out of stubbornness than any real hope.

She crossed creaky floorboards and stood above the mattress. There was the envelope, still in the same place. She didn’t even feel a sinking sensation in her stomach, she only felt numb.

Then she blinked, trying to banish her slight headache. Did that…?

The envelope read ‘Vanya’ on top.

She snatched it up, heart hammering in her chest, almost crying with sick relief. She ran, and had barely reached her bedroom before she tore the letter free.

Her eyes quickly scanned the newest message, added below her own:

_I left because you were right. I’ve never experienced the world. I thought it was time I widened my horizons, like you told me I should._

_I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you, Vanya. I wanted to. I wanted to make amends but didn’t know how, having behaved so badly. The last thing I wanted was to cause you more pain. I_ _thought it best I give you space. I thought that’s what you would want._

Now, at last, Vanya breathed again.

Five wasn’t punishing her after all. He was… anxious.

She could relate to that.

Her nausea abated, the fear that her cold rejection had finally driven Five to abandon her, something that not even destroying the planet had been able to accomplish.

Instead, he was acting out of consideration. Stupidly, perhaps, but the intentions were there. He’d even taken her advice, and ventured out into the world where he might meet someone new and overcome his feelings for her.

That was good. She was glad.

The important thing was, Five didn’t hate her. If anything, he seemed contrite for having once again put her heart through the wringer, however accidentally.

She huffed a quiet laugh. Not that he was off the hook. Accident or no, he needed to cut that shit out.

But now they could go back to the easy friendship they’d shared before his unexpected confession. With some time and space apart, he could move on, and she wouldn’t have to deal with these confusing, guilty emotions anymore.

Vanya smiled, though her heart thrummed sluggishly in her chest. Swallowing, she sat down to write a response. If her emotions happened to be a little subdued, or her stomach a tad queasy, that was easily attributable to a poor night’s sleep.

*

The next morning, another reply awaited her.

At the bottom of the first page read her own words: **Maybe you should stop assuming you know what I want and ask me instead.**

She flipped the paper over to find the single line of his response:

_What do you want?_

**An apology, for a start** , she wrote him. **But only if you mean it.**

As she left the letter yet again on his bed, Vanya wondered if she should just camp out in his room overnight. Unless he broke the pattern now, there was no chance of missing him. She could see him in person, force a face-to-face confrontation.

The idea didn’t sit right with her. For all that her hurt had made it impossible to leave him alone like the others had, Luther’s argument held merit. Five knew where to find her. If he wanted to see her, talk to her, then… he wouldn’t still be gone. It felt wrong to abuse his kindness in soothing her anxiety with speedy replies by taking advantage.

His answer came in the morning:

_I’m sorry, Vanya. Truly. I regret nothing so much as hurting you. What else do you want? If it is in my power to satisfy you, I will._

His sincerity was clear. Possibly because his words were so formal, but it touched her heart regardless. The last time she’d seen him, Five had told her he loved her, and she didn’t think that had changed yet. She was grateful.

She was ashamed.

How could she scold him his emotional trespasses, but still want the continuance of his affections? She was selfish, and hypocritical.

Vanya shoved her conflicted feelings down deep, into the darkest unexplored reaches of the ocean where no one would ever find them, least of all herself.

 **Good.** She hoped he could hear her teasing voice in that one word, and know that she was no longer upset with him. **I want you to write me every day while you’re away.**

 _And come home soon_ , she thought.

That part she didn’t write down.

With his next letter, delivered five days after their correspondence began, she knew all was well between them. It said:

 _I am happy to oblige you. It’ll be nice having someone to write to that isn’t Luther. Incidentally_ , _was it an intentional breach of secrecy or an accidental slip-up?_

Chuckling, Vanya scratched out an assurance that Luther’s confession had been an accident. As much as Five might be annoyed with Luther for this, she felt sure it would be a sort of long-suffering, fond annoyance, rather than the hurt he would feel at Luther betraying his trust on purpose.

*

Thereafter, they became pen pals.

Every morning a letter waited for her on Five’s bed, and every night she left her own in return. It wasn’t as good as having him home, but it was something.

At first there was hesitancy on both sides. Feeling out their new situation, like prodding a tender wound, their messages friendly but with a lingering air of formality that seemed to mirror the physical distance between them.

More often than not, his letters were informative, telling her about his environment:

_Thailand is a beautiful country. Their beaches are wonderful._

**I’ll have to visit someday.**

She didn’t mention that she’d never taken him for a beach person.

Sometimes, when she could think of nothing to say, their siblings provided her with inspiration:

**Today was our first lesson with Professor Ben Hargreeves on Moral Philosophy and the Ethics of Saving the World One Poor Sucker At a Time and Definitely Not Destroying It On Accident, Again. (Name courtesy of Klaus.) Luther was attentive, Allison was enrapt, and Diego and Klaus have already been banned from sitting together. I think Ben was a bit overwhelmed by it all.**

_As per usual, Klaus has all the subtlety and tact of a bulldozer._

As the days passed, their letters grew more relaxed, and they spoke with greater ease and humor. Disjointed ramblings, meaningless stories of their day, fleeting thoughts:

_Today I saw a cloud that looked like a dog._

**What did you name it?**

_Who says I named it?_

**You named every stuffed animal Grace gave you because Dad wouldn’t let us get a real pet _and_ the sock monkey Ben made for you when we were four. What did you name it?**

_Mr. Pennycrumb._

There was an illicit fun in it. Like they were schoolchildren again, passing notes behind their father’s back, secret confidantes, giggling at their successes and commiserating in their failures when both were punished for their transgressions. Even though their letters now were different from those of their youth—

Vanya remembered dirty jokes written in Latin, an illustration of Diego with eggs for eyes, innocuous comments on a bird glimpsed through the window on a sunny day, poems and agitations, every stupid thought they could think to share with each other and get away with.

—it was all very nostalgic. It was… nice, to remember how it had once been between them. How she wanted it to be again.

There were times when her letters with Five were funny:

**Today’s Hargreeves family dilemma: If you were twins with any one of us, who would you want it to be? Luther chose you, Allison chose me, Diego chose Ben, Klaus chose Diego, Ben chose Luther I think to spite Klaus, and I chose Allison (sister solidarity).**

_Klaus is into some kinky shit. I respect that. I choose an identical twin of myself because fuck all of them._

It didn’t need to be stated why she was excluded from the ‘all of them,’ nor why he wouldn’t wish her for his twin regardless.

A week went by. Five told her about his apartment, and the blasé landlady who didn’t care about his age, only that she was paid on time. He told her about local delicacies and learning the language. They discussed a great many things, and there was no hint of conflict between them, only friendship.

So why did she still feel a sense of dissatisfaction, a twisted knot in her gut?

Then one day, her letter was of a grave nature:

**Klaus fell off the wagon today. Diego’s taking care of him. Don’t come home, he didn’t even want me to tell you. But I thought you should know.**

The next morning brought more than a letter. There was a basket that barely fit in her arms, a care package stuffed full of chocolate, Thai snacks and desserts, two plushie toys, and a fuzzy blanket. The letter said:

 _Tell him I sent them for the whole family. If he gets worse, I’m coming back. How are_ you _, Vanya?_

When she read this, Vanya went stock still. The paper crinkled in her hands.

She began to shake. She sat down on her bed, hard, biting her lip to stop its trembling. Her breath shuddered as she gulped in air to fill a sudden emptiness.

Not until that moment had she realized… how alone she still felt. How invisible, distant from him. They’d talked of traffic and clouds and strangers and books and family, shared stories and jokes and anecdotes—and yet nothing, endless amounts of nothing. They’d never talked of themselves. Nothing sincere, nothing true.

Here at last was the evidence she’d needed, to know that he still cared.

She was seen, and loved.

The knot in her gut untangled.

Still on the verge of tears, she took the basket to Klaus and gave him Five’s weak excuse. It was clear neither he nor Diego believed it, but Klaus seemed too choked up to be angry with her. When he turned his face towards the wall, blotchy and wet, Vanya hurried from the room, not wanting to worsen his embarrassment, the shame that burned in his eyes.

That night she wrote her longest letter yet. She poured out her heart to Five, sharing her worries for Klaus and her admiration for Diego, and confiding in him her most deep-seated fear, the one that always resurfaced in times of crisis: that her family would be taken away from her and she would be left behind, lost and lonely.

 _I won't let that happen_ , he replied. _No matter where you are in time or space, I’ll always find you, and I’ll turn back the clock as many times as it takes to fix it. I don’t care if I create enough paradoxes to tear the world apart. I’ll watch it burn before I ever see you alone again._

With that, the barriers between them collapsed, and their letters revived the true emotional intimacy they’d shared before his leaving.

*

Seven days later, Vanya woke to a bland Wednesday morning. Heavy air, ashen skies. The world felt dampened, cast beneath a clouded veil. She tromped to Five’s room half awake, cheery nonetheless, as she always seemed to be these days.

Only to find no letter from him. There was just her own, left out the night before.

Vanya was awake in an instant, icy fear trickling through her veins. It was the first day he’d missed. Had he tired of keeping his promise to her?

No, she didn’t believe that. Even if she couldn’t believe in herself, she believed in him.

But that was worse. Because it meant something was wrong.

Suddenly the weather felt more foreboding, like an omen. She half expected lightning to come crashing in through the window. But that was only her overactive imagination; the day was still average, barely even qualifying as gloomy.

It was her internal world that had been thrown into chaos. Panic built in her chest, moved upward, threatened to choke her. Was he injured? Bleeding?

Dead?

She felt like she was breaking apart from the inside. Her hands clenched together and she inhaled and exhaled great lungfuls of air until she had it under control.

With nothing else she could do, Vanya left the room empty-handed.

All day she fidgeted and paced and fretted, accomplishing nothing productive. Her thoughts were filled with Five. He’d never given them an address, not even a phone number. How could they ever find him? If something had happened, he was on his own.

She couldn’t lose him. Not again.

Who would indulge her pointless ramblings like he did? Who would make her laugh with a single word or look? Who would talk to her about physics and philosophy and literature? Who would share every insignificant detail of their day with her? Who would she even care to know that much about, besides him?

Who would save her? Who would save the _world_?

In his sudden disappearance, Vanya was thrust backward in time, and she felt suddenly aware of all he’d been through, in a way she never had before. Decades lived in an apocalypse hellscape thanks to _her_. Creating love for himself where there was none. Keeping himself sane through insanity. Every reason imaginable to forget them all, forget himself, and carve out the most bearable life possible. Yet after everything, after all he’d suffered, the only thing he cared about was returning to his family, to save them and the entire world.

He was the best of them.

And he was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shoutout to the whole Fiveya community! Y'all are such a supportive and encouraging fandom, thank you.


	3. Missing

That night Vanya tossed and turned in bed, uncomfortably aware of her heart beating an anxious rhythm in her chest. It allowed her no peace. After a few hours of spotty sleep, she finally gave up and threw off the covers. Her watch read 4:34. With an ache behind her eyes that stretched all the way to the back of her skull, she walked the familiar trek between her room and Five’s, wishing, praying.

No letter. Vanya thought she might be sick.

She took slow, deep breaths. Falling to pieces wouldn’t help _anyone_ , least of all Five.

Once she had a firm grip on her emotions—or, at least, her body’s responses to said emotions—Vanya formulated a game plan. Unable yet to enact Step One of the plan, she skipped ahead to Step Two and went to her room to start packing.

*

A few hours later Vanya set down the notebook of story ideas she’d been using to distract herself after packing a medium-sized suitcase, taking a shower, and eating breakfast. She tromped downstairs, grabbing the Yellow Pages on the way.

Fifteen minutes on the phone with an airline representative got her a reservation on a one-way flight that afternoon to Bangkok, Thailand, with only one layover. It would be the longest flight of her life by far, but well worth it. She didn’t know Five’s address or phone number, but she had enough details to go on from his letters—shops, restaurants, and landmarks near his apartment—that she might be able to track him down. It was her best option. Her only option.

Now that everything was set to go, Vanya felt the slightest measure of relief. At least she was doing something. She was still worried for Five—in fact, if she let herself ruminate on his disappearance too long, she reckoned it would terrify her right out of her mind. But with a helpful dose of compartmentalization, and now with an active goal to reach for, she felt less anxious. More alert, and prepared. She felt ready to conquer the world.

Moving on to Step Three, Vanya went down to the kitchen. There, Allison and Luther were eating breakfast together, at a much more reasonable time than Vanya had.

Allison looked up when Vanya entered the room, and smiled from her perch on Luther’s lap. In the moment before Luther turned, Vanya saw the sappy, sentimental look on his face as he stared at Allison. Luther wore his emotions on his sleeve more than most, and his love for Allison always shone strongest. Though Vanya knew some of her other brothers would act grossed out by the frankly overwhelming amount of love in the room right now, all she felt was joy. Growing up as they all had, so unable to demonstrate their love for one another, this casual PDA between Luther and Allison never failed to make her heart swell.

There was perhaps a pinch of envy mixed in, but that was a problem for another day. Today she had a mission.

When Luther’s gaze found hers, he smiled every bit as warmly as Allison. Vanya got another dose of serotonin from Luther’s newfound confidence, several years in the making, which allowed him, now, to sit with Allison on his lap and exhibit no signs of discomfort or embarrassment.

Her eyes started to water, and she felt a flush of shame at her body’s weakness, brought on by the exhaustion and ragged nerves. She reasserted control and cleared her throat.

“Good morning, Vanya,” Luther said cheerily. Vanya had a flash of anger that he could be so chipper when Five was missing—then remembered she hadn’t yet told anyone of Five’s disappearance because she wanted first to be sure she wasn’t overreacting.

 _I really need to get some sleep_ , she thought.

“Morning, you two,” she said with a nod.

“Sleep well?” Allison asked, a hint of concern in her dark eyes.

Vanya’s cheeks heated at her sister’s perceptiveness. “Actually, I… I have a favor to ask. Of one of you. Either of you. Whoever is fine.”

“What do you need?” asked Luther, setting down his utensils.

“A ride to the airport. I’ve got a flight out booked this afternoon.”

“Where to?” Allison asked.

Vanya took a deep breath. “Bangkok.”

Luther smiled. Allison’s eyebrows shot up, a glimmer of knowing mischief in her eyes. Vanya’s chest tightened. She couldn’t bear to see their glee at the idea she might be flying over to join Five in some positive capacity. Before they could speak, she hastened to correct their mistaken assumptions.

“Five’s missing,” she said. Their expressions froze, and began to darken. Allison lowered her coffee mug to the table. “I haven’t heard from him in two days. I, I’m going to try to… I’m going to find him.”

Setting her mug down, Allison stood and walked around the table. She folded Vanya into a hug. Luther stood as well, the chair scraping as he pushed it back. Vanya put her arms around her sister and squeezed, letting go some of the tension that coursed through her body.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Allison murmured. “He’s Five. How could he not be?” She drew back and looked Vanya in the eyes, her smile full of gentleness and strength. “Have you ever known anyone as resilient as him? Hmm?”

Vanya chuckled and shook her head, but it was half-hearted at best. She looked to Luther as he approached them.

“Of course we’ll give you a ride,” he said. “But you’re not going alone.”

“Huh?”

“I’m coming with you.” He turned to Allison. “You can drive us both to the airport, can’t you?”

She smiled at her two siblings. “Of course.”

Still surprised—though, in retrospect, she really shouldn’t have been—Vanya blinked up at Luther as he settled a warm hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll go to Bangkok together, alright?” he said. “And we’ll find Five. I promise.”

Vanya had to swallow, suddenly choked up. “Thank you. Thank you, Luther.”

He nodded, smiling. “So. What’s the flight information? I’ll go book myself a ticket.”

*

With Luther off preparing for their trip, Vanya was left with nothing to do but wait. The hours until their departure to the airport felt like they would drag on interminably. She tried practicing the violin, but found no solace in her music and soon gave it up. Around eleven o’clock, she laid down for a nap.

She floated in and out of hazy dreams. In one moment she thought she was floating in the middle of the ocean, drowning, only to breathe air and realize she wasn’t in the sea but in the sky. And she wasn’t floating, she was hanging thousands of feet above the ground, right arm straining as she clung to something just above her. The dream wouldn’t let her look up, but she knew it was a hand she held. One hand, holding her aloft, keeping her from plummeting to her death. Her legs swung freely and every muscle in her body ached, tore, screamed as she tried not to let go.

The dream shifted. Gray nothingness the consistency of a cotton ball enveloped her, and she opened her eyes in a void. She heard a whisper and spun about, but found nothing and no one.

Something latched onto her wrist and she screamed. She couldn’t see anything. The dream world was a fog around her.

“Vanya!” something yelled, its voice muffled though it came from right in front of her. “Vanya!”

She tried to yank her arm back, but the unseen thing wouldn’t let go. Heart racing, she used one hand to pull on the other, trying to liberate it from the thing’s grip.

Her arm came free. She fell to the ground and scrambled backward into the directionless void.

Now her name echoed all around her. “Vanya! Vanya... Van…” Growing quieter. Fading. Falling away into the gray.

Only, now that the terror had passed, Vanya recognized the voice. It was Five. How could she not have realized? What had she done? Five had reached for her in the abyss, found her, tried to follow her through it, and she’d…

“Five!” she screamed. She whirled about, trying to pinpoint the source of his call. “Five, come back! Five, _wait_!”

She received nothing in return but silence.

With her own scream echoing in her mind, Vanya lunged up from the bed, eyes shooting open. She was sweating, her heart pounding. Knees pulled to her chest, she sat there and cried for several minutes.

*

If anything, she felt physically worse after her nap. The nightmares had taken a toll. They had, however, provided her one tiny bit of inspiration. If one could call it that. She almost wished they hadn’t.

Hesitant, she walked to Klaus’s room and rapped on the door. After a moment, Diego called, “Come in!”

She went in and found Klaus and Diego lounging on Klaus’s bed, the former knitting and the latter reading a book. Diego sat with his back against the wall, perpendicular to Klaus so Klaus could lay with his legs out over Diego’s. The scene was tender and casual. Deceptively so, as Vanya didn’t need to see the paleness of Klaus’s skin or the bags under his eyes to know he was still in recovery from his relapse. Diego had been keeping an eye and keeping him company for the past week.

“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to hide her _own_ physical lack of well-being with a smile, as if she had no right to look poorly when Klaus was suffering so much more. “How’s it going?”

“His potholder has developed a pituitary disorder,” said Diego. Vanya didn’t waste any energy feeling confused—she just waited, knowing Klaus would soon elucidate this seemingly incomprehensible statement. Sure enough:

“My potholder is in perfect health,” he retorted, holding up the red knitted shape between his needles, which was distinctly larger than a potholder. “It’s just not a potholder anymore. It decided it wanted to be a scarf instead.”

“Uh huh,” Diego said.

Klaus stuck his tongue out at Diego. Their expressions of affection were different, but there was just as much love flying around this room as in the kitchen.

Her heart ached for want of Five.

“It’s a lovely scarf,” she offered, hoping her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt.

“See?” Klaus said to his brother. “ _Vanya_ knows how to butter up the family craftsperson so she gets all the best Christmas presents. Guess I know who _this_ baby is going to.” He held up the half-finished scarf. There was a playful challenge in his gaze, and though Diego shook his head, there was a smirk peeking through which Vanya had a feeling meant that, were she not there, Diego would be enacting some kind of… punishment for Klaus’s cheek.

“So, Van. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Klaus asked, glancing between her and his resumed knitting.

Now that she was here, Vanya felt a niggle of guilt for what she was about to ask. But there was no harm in trying, she convinced herself. He could always say no if he needed.

“I was wondering if… you felt up to using your powers,” she said.

With her attention focused on Klaus, she saw the way all his movement stilled, but in her periphery she also saw Diego’s eyes snap up from his book. She consciously stopped herself from shifting on her feet. 

Klaus started to knit again. “What for?” he asked, his tone decidedly neutral.

Vanya bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep at bay the tears that still seemed ready to spring forth at every moment. “Five’s missing.”

Now Diego _and_ Klaus were staring at her, shock written over both their faces. Diego’s hard expression faded into understanding.

“What do you mean by ‘missing’?” Diego asked—not rude, just professional. “Isn’t he in Thailand?”

She nodded. “But we’ve been exchanging letters every day, and now… It’s been two days since I heard anything from him. I think something’s wrong.”

She worried she would sound like she was overreacting, but Diego nodded, agreeing with her assessment. This worried her even more.

“So…” Klaus’s brow creased. “You want me to enlist some ghostly aid to help look for him? I don’t know how well I can reach my powers to Thailand to seek out the locals—”

“Er, no.” Vanya swallowed. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. “I want… I thought… Could you try to summon him?”

Klaus froze, and Diego’s eyes shot wide open. Like she’d punched them both. Diego recovered first, nodding with a clenched jaw.

“That’s smart. Good thinking, Vanya,” he said, voice rough. He rubbed a hand up and down Klaus’s arm. “What do you think, babe? It’s up to you. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

Klaus shot him a look. “Of _course_ I should push myself.”

“Klaus—”

“Diego, it’s _Five_.”

That put an end to the conversation. Diego looked away, face tight, but he didn’t argue as Klaus set aside his knitting and tucked his feet in so he sat cross-legged. Klaus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, then sat up straight. His eyes closed.

The tension in the room hummed as Vanya and Diego waited. She felt the vibrations in her bones. Her heart’s thumping grew louder and louder in her ears until it was all she could hear. Her eyes couldn’t rest, their gaze bouncing around the room, peering into every corner, crook, and cranny. Terrified that a translucent form would appear.

A minute passed, then two. Every so often Klaus twitched, a sudden jerk of his facial muscles or his torso, but no words were spoken. His skin seemed to take on an even more pallid complexion. Vanya glanced at Diego in worry, but he only shook his head, looking like every muscle in his body had been pulled taut.

After a couple minutes more, Klaus’s posture sagged and he opened his eyes. The second he did, Diego swooped in with a handkerchief, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow.

“I’m alright,” he murmured to Diego. Diego relaxed only marginally at his words. Then Klaus turned to Vanya with a weak smile.

“He’s not there,” he assured her.

Vanya’s knees turned to jelly. She grabbed the doorframe to keep herself upright. Relief tingled through her limbs and she brushed the sensitive pads of her fingers together to make a sound with which to anchor herself other than the beating of her own heart.

“I don’t know where he _is_ ,” Klaus continued, “but it’s not in the afterlife.”

“What will you do now?” asked Diego.

Inhaling, Vanya stood up straight. “Luther and I are going to look for him. We’ve got a flight booked in a few hours. I just wanted to be sure… Before we went, you know…”

“Of course,” Klaus said. “It was a good idea.”

“I should be the one to come with you,” Diego said with a wince. Though he spoke to Vanya, he was staring at Klaus, looking pained. “I’ve got more investigative know-how than Luther. Maybe I can—”

“It’s okay,” said Vanya. Diego shot her a guilty look. She smiled to show that she meant it. She knew how much it would kill Diego to be away from Klaus right now, and knew equally that Klaus needed _him_. “We may never have been police cadets, but we were raised in this house too,” she said. “We can handle it. You should stay here. If we need you, we’ll call, okay?”

“I’m sorry—” Klaus started to say.

Both Vanya and Diego cut him off, Vanya gentle, Diego with more fervor. After Diego made his own assurances that Klaus had nothing to be sorry for, Vanya said,

“You helped so much, Klaus. Knowing that he’s still alright, wherever he is… makes all the difference. Thank you.”

A little color came to Klaus’s cheeks and he looked down at the bedspread, fingers picking at a loose thread. “S’okay. Least I could do,” he mumbled.

Wearing her truest smile of the day, Vanya crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Klaus’s shoulders in a hug—awkward, given the angle, but something to express how she felt. After a moment he put his arms around her waist and squeezed back.

“No,” she said. “It was a lot more than that.” She let him go and stepped back. “Now you just take care of yourself and get all better. Okay?”

He nodded, eyes a little watery. Checking her watch, Vanya walked back to the doorway, then turned to include them both in her smile.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too, sis.”

“Love ya, Van. Give Five a kiss for me when you find him.”

Klaus winked and Vanya blushed, hurrying from the room and back to her own.

*

Conscious that she wouldn’t get to play again for an indeterminate amount of time—on which note, she needed to let her director know she’d be absent for a while… but maybe she could get Allison to call for her, she was too mentally exhausted—Vanya pulled out her violin and played two of her newest pieces from orchestra. She savored the tug of the bow drawing across the strings, the ethereal melody that spun around her. Wrapped her up in a cocoon of warmth and magic. In music, she felt safe.

Reluctantly, she stopped after the second song. It was nearly time to go. Luther and Allison would be waiting for her.

She tucked her violin back in its case. Hefting her suitcase in both hands, she carried it up the stairs step by step. She was breathing a bit hard by the time she joined Luther and Allison in the foyer.

“I could’ve carried that for you!” said Luther, frowning.

She grinned. “I got it. But thanks.”

With Allison holding the door open for them, she and Luther headed outside, suitcases in hand.

They were loading the suitcases into the trunk of the car when the front door flew open with a loud _bang_.

“Hold up!” came a loud cry. Diego sprinted towards them, the door falling shut behind him.

“Diego!” Allison said, startled. “What—”

But Diego had eyes only for Vanya. Panting, he pointed back over his shoulder and said, “Five. On the phone. For you. I ran quick as I—”

Vanya dropped her suitcase where she stood and raced past him. She ran through the house. Her footsteps clomped loudly down the stairs, and she almost tripped turning around the corner, but she kept her feet and was clutching the receiver in her hands only seconds later.

“Five?” she said. _Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump_. “Are you there?”

“ _Hi, Vanya_.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She took the phone away from her ear, needing a moment. She hadn’t heard his voice in so long. Even though it was quiet and weak through the phone, there was no describing the relief she felt at hearing it, the comfort.

As silent tears rolled down her face, she put the phone back to her ear. “Five, what happened? Where have you been?”

“ _I’m so sorry I broke my promise. I never meant to_ —”

Just as she was realizing his voice wasn’t only quiet because of the phone connection but hushed and raspy, he broke into a cough.

Sick. He was sick. Likely all he had was a little cold, and she’d called in the damn cavalry. She felt such a fool.

 _Hang on!_ she scolded herself, brushing the tears off her cheeks. Two damn days was too long an absence to be justified by a little cold. If he was sick, it must be something more serious, and her concern, while apparently unnecessary, had been entirely valid.

“You’re sick,” she said. Easiest to start with the obvious.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answered. “ _This_ ridiculous _body_ ”—his voice took on an irritated edge, and Vanya couldn’t help grinning at its familiarity—“ _seems to have caught a bug. Nothing serious. I called as soon as I… as soon as I could._ ”

Despite the joy she felt at hearing his voice, Vanya couldn’t help also feeling frustrated at his blatant dishonesty. She bit her tongue, trying to cool down.

“Don’t lie to me, Five, please,” she said.

“ _Lie? What do you_ —”

“‘Nothing serious’?” she cut in. “You were MIA for at least a day and a half. What was happening all that time? Are you alright?”

“ _I told you, I’m fine. It’s nothing._ ” He coughed. “ _Just a stupid cold._ ”

“Then why couldn’t you call me before now?”

He was silent. Then, finally: “ _I_ _was unconscious._ ”

Her heart clenched with worry even as her eyes rolled with disbelief at his blasé attitude and blunt delivery. As if he sensed this, Five hurriedly went on.

“ _But I’m fine. Really. I know I let you down, and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again._ ”

Vanya nearly started crying again. How could he possibly think her biggest concern was that he _let her down_? Did he think her such a selfish, uncaring monster?

“ _Five_. Don’t _apologize_ for being _sick._ ” She gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “You didn’t let me down, I just… I was just worried about you. No way to reach you, no way to know if you were okay. God. Luther and I were on our way to the airport to come find you when you called. I thought something terrible had happened. I was afraid that…”

When her silence dragged on, he said, “ _Afraid what, Vanya?_ ”

She leaned against the wall, curling around the phone as if to hide her heart from any of her siblings that might see or hear her. “Afraid I’d lost you.”

There was another pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was even softer.

“ _You’ll never lose me_.”

Her cheeks flushed, but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. God, she missed him so much. She hadn’t realized just how much until hearing his voice again after so many months. Their letters had given some solace, especially lately, but there was simply no way to match the warm feeling of his voice in her ears, or the humor in his bright, intelligent eyes. He was her best friend, and she ached for him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “What were you sick with in the first place? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

He coughed a couple of times. “ _No, I… That’s not necessary, trust me. I just needed the sleep. I’m fine._ ”

“You’re _not_ fine. And what do you mean you just needed the sleep? Have you been working yourself so hard you collapsed?”

“ _Not… exactly._ ”

“ _Five_ ,” she said, exasperated.

“ _Alright! Alright. I… may have worn myself out teleporting home and back every day._ ”

Oh.

Oh.

Shame flooded through her. It was her fault, all her fault. She’d told him to bring her letters every single day, and he’d pushed himself to meet her demands, exhausting his powers to the point where his body simply gave up on him. Even from thousands of miles away, she managed to be a lifeforce-sucking entity. Incredible. Her destiny truly was to always hurt the ones she loved the most.

“ _Vanya_ ,” he said. “ _This_ wasn’t your fault _._ ”

She gave a watery laugh. Huh. She hadn’t realized she was crying again. It made sense, she supposed. She was drowning in guilt; naturally there would be some overflow.

“Sure,” she said. “Just like the almost end of the world wasn’t my fault either. At some point, Five, I’ve got to start taking responsibility—”

“ _Stop it_.”

He wasn’t loud, or angry, but there was a sharpness, a decisive command in his tone that she found impossible to disobey.

“ _You’re not to blame_ ,” he said. “ _I should have told you what it was doing to me. My stupid pride is the one at fault. I thought I could handle it, that’s all._ ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t forced you to make that dumb promise.”

“ _You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Understand? This is on me. I’m sorry I made you worry. I never meant to do that. I just wanted to talk to you. I_ wanted _to write you every day. Alright?_ ”

Vanya swallowed. She couldn’t disavow the sincerity in his voice. He meant every word. Her guilt abated slightly. If he said she wasn’t to blame, then… alright. Maybe neither of them were. Maybe they were both just being silly.

“Alright,” she said. Then, “But clearly, we can’t do this anymore. You can’t be jumping back and forth between here and Thailand every day.”

“ _No, perhaps not_.”

She chuckled at the grudging tone of his agreement. As though he couldn’t be more personally peeved with the universe for this fact.

“What about once a week?” she said. “Can you handle that?”

“ _Physically?_ ” he said. “ _Sure. But…_ ”

“But?”

“ _I… miss you, Vanya._ ”

There was a flutter in her stomach, and a happy, light feeling spread through her limbs. “You know,” she said, “you can always call me, between letters. If you want. It’s… nice to hear your voice.”

A pause. 

“ _It’s nice to hear yours too._ ”

The flutter grew stronger, becoming a minor spasm in her chest. Vanya pressed a hand over her heart, massaging above the thrashing organ. What was _wrong_ with her? The adrenaline and lack of sleep of the past two days was really doing a number on her. Her nerves were shot to hell, and her body was behaving in ridiculous ways.

“So we’re agreed?” she said. She was pleased to note that her voice sounded completely normal. No need for him to know how silly she was being. “Letters on Sundays, phone calls whenever we please?”

After he confirmed, she forced him to give her his address and phone number, just in case. No _way_ was she going through these hellish few days again. 

Though she wanted to keep talking, Vanya soon encouraged Five to get off and go get something to eat and drink. He had, after all, called her immediately upon waking up after more than a day of complete unconsciousness. He seemed convinced that all he’d needed was the sleep to recharge his powers, and he’d be alright now. But regardless, he needed the sustenance. When they hung up after warm goodbyes, Vanya went to go tell the rest of her siblings the good news.

*

Five set the receiver down. Nice to hear his voice, she’d said. He’d needed to take a moment to breathe, to control himself, because his low-blood-sugar, exhausted, woozy self had almost started rhapsodizing about _her_ voice in reply. 

He’d very nearly told her how her voice was the sweetest sound in the world. How its intonations made a more beautiful music even than her violin. How he fell in love a little more every time he heard it.

How he wanted desperately to call her every day; but knew he couldn’t without missing her so terribly that he’d go home at once.

And he couldn’t do that. His project was near to completion. He had to finish it before returning home, or all this time away would be a waste.

Grabbing an apple, Five settled himself at his workbench. He took a bite, relishing the crunch, then set the apple down and picked up a pair of tweezers. With Vanya’s voice in his ears, telling him how she’d been afraid to lose him, how she’d been so worried about him that she’d booked an immediate flight to Thailand just to look for him, he felt newly inspired to finish his work.

It was almost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that fiveyaaas is the best? She's the best. What a wonderful beta and friend.
> 
> Also, I am SO sorry it took me this long to finish the story! I'll do my best to publish more quickly in the future. This series does have an endgame, I swear, and it'll take a couple more short stories to get there. Hope you stick with me <3 Thanks to all my readers.


End file.
